PostOp
by Kanti
Summary: Just in time for Sheryl's birthday! Alto returns home from a mission, having been seriously injured. Sheryl deals with the consequences of war as best she can.


**Post-Op**

A chilly winter day found Sheryl waiting in the lobby just outside the restricted area of the SMS headquarters. She, like several others in the room was waiting for the _Quarter's_ return after a three-week excursion on a top-secret mission. She found it impossible to sit down and so paced back and forth so much she was working up a light sweat.

All she knew about the mission was that it was definitely a combat mission. Alto had alluded to as much, but was tight-lipped about any other details. She'd only found out the _Macross Quarter_ was returning today.

In one hand she held a bundle of handwritten letters addressed to Alto. Since she couldn't send messages to him while the SMS was away, she thought it would be nice for him to read what she'd been thinking about while he was away. She bit her lower lip to hide her smile as she thought about the contents of some of those letters. Needless to say, they were for his eyes only.

An indicator light above the door turned green and SMS soldiers and crew filed out of the door and into the arms of their waiting loved ones. Alto was not among them. Pilots, looking as cool and sharp as ever, also filed out of the door, but Alto was not among them, either. Engineers followed them, but still no Alto.

Then came the medical staff in a flurry of activity. Several nurses were herding a gurney through the door, accompanied by Canaria and Ozma, with Lucca and Klan taking up the rear.

Canaria was on her phone.

"Is the ambulance out front? Good. We'll be there in a few seconds. Patient is in stable but critical condition. Handle with care."

Sheryl craned her neck to see who was on the bed, and dropped her letters when she recognized Alto's hair. In fact, that was all she could see of him. His face was wrapped in bandages and a respirator was taped to his mouth.

"Sheryl! Get out of the way!" Ozma barked and she leaped aside as the medics rushed Alto past her and out the door. Klan stopped to pick up the letters and handed them back to Sheryl.

"What...?"

Klan held a finger to her lips. "Not here. We'll fill you in at the hospital."

...

Sheryl couldn't remember how she got to the hospital, but sure enough she was sitting on a bench near the entrance and trying to compose herself. Her cell phone displayed the room Alto was in and that they were waiting for a report on his condition.

Sheryl heaved a ragged sigh. She pinched the letters together like some kind of stress ball and tried to console herself. She always knew that dating a soldier ran risks like this. Most times she was able to push the risks Alto faced to the back of her mind. After all, there was no danger at home, and Alto was such a good pilot that she rarely worried even when he was on duty.

She looked at her cell phone again and took a deep breath.

"I am Sheryl Nome," she said under her breath. She stood up, the tall and beautiful Galaxy Fairy. No one was supposed to tell that her boyfriend may be dying or even permanently disfigured. That wasn't her job.

By the time she made it up to Alto's room, she was calmer, but her bright blue eyes were rimmed with worry. Canaria was in the room giving her report. Cathy had joined the group and looked very concerned. Ozma wore a grim expression. Sheryl figured this was a familiar sight to him. Klan of all people looked the most stoic.

"...it'll take a few weeks. He's going to be in a lot of pain until then, so we'll have to keep him pretty drugged up for the first few days until we're sure he won't be uncomfortable."

The curtain around Alto's bed was pulled shut.

"Ah, Sheryl! There you are!" chirped Lucca.

Sheryl swallowed. "What happened."

Ozma filled her in. "We were hit by surprise from a rogue Zentradi squad we'd missed. Sneaky bastards were right under our noses."

Klan beamed. "You should know better than to underestimate us, Major!"

"Anyway," Ozma continued, glowering at Klan, "Alto was in the section where the hull was breached and he was ejected from the ship for a moment. It was pure luck that Lucca was still on patrol and was carrying recovery gel."

"He was only outside the ship for a moment," Canaria resumed, "But any moment in space is a moment too long. He took some injuries from flying debris and cracked some ribs where he hit a bulkhead during the depressurization, but he got away without any damaged vitals or worse injuries."

"So no permanent injuries?" Asked Lucca.

"Nothing debilitating," she responded. "As to scars and the like, we'll have to wait for the swelling to go down."

"Will he be able to fly again?" asked Sheryl. The others looked at her, then back to Canaria.

"After he recovers, I don't see why not."

Sheryl released her breath and clasped her hands. "Thank God."

Cathy tugged on Ozma's arm. "Isn't that sweet? All she can think about is what makes him happy."

"Unlike some people I know," Ozma said with a smirk. Cathy responded by kicking him in the shin.

"Can I see him now?"

"Hang on." Canaria stepped inside the curtains for a moment. "He's awake right now, but we'll have to put him back under soon. He'll be in a lot of pain if we don't."

"That's fine. I just want to see him."

Canaria gripped the curtain. "I should warn you, when someone gets exposed to space, the first thing that happens is the capillaries near the skin burst and create a full-body bruise."

Sheryl raised her head. "I've been bruised and bloodied before. Get on with it."

Canaria pulled back the curtain and everyone cringed. What lay on the bed with a breathing tube in his mouth was not Alto. At the very least it was Lieutenant Alto Saotome according to his bed chart, but the face was all wrong. In place of the smooth, handsome face of the actor-turned-pilot was something quite different.

His face was nearly black and swollen beyond recognition. Bandages covered small lacerations here and there, many of which were still abscessing. One eye was swollen completely shut while the other revealed a tiny sliver of yellow. Dried blood trailed from his ears and nose, and drool ran freely from one corner of his swollen, numb lips, which curled into a malformed smile when he recognized Sheryl.

Everyone looked to the Galaxy Fairy. She alone had not cringed upon seeing Alto. Sheryl was undergoing a very different series of reactions.

At first, there was no reaction. Her imagination had painted Alto's handsome but still quite feminine face onto the bed when Canaria pulled back the curtain. Then reality set in and revealed the creature on the bed. But still she told herself, this is Alto. That's my boyfriend. Then, her brain started registering details. The discolored skin, the horrible swelling, the drooling, the cuts; all of these details started adding up in her brain and tipping her emotions in a disastrous direction. She went from no reaction, to surprise, then shock, then to disgust, then finally on into the neighborhoods of fear, horror, and dread. These emotions flashed across her face as it morphed from a model of feminine stoicism to a tense bundle of expressions waiting to explode.

Sheryl did the only thing she could do. She screamed, turned, and locked herself in the recovery suite's bathroom.

"Sheryl!" the visitors all yelled and pulled on the door handle to no avail.

"Shut up!" yelled Klan. "She's saying something." They all stood still and listened. The sound of Sheryl sobbing could be heard through the heavy bathroom door.

"Sheryl!" cooed Cathy. "What's wrong? Alto's hurt, but he's fine!"

"That's not my Alto!" Sheryl sobbed. "My Alto-kun is a pretty, pretty princess!"

A despondent, gurgling moan slithered from Alto's bed.

"Sheryl, you do know he can hear you," groaned Ozma.

"I don't care! He looks like an abused octopus!"

Alto moaned something that resembled "Octopus!?" but came out as "omghuhnmunah?"

Klan turned to Lucca with a devious grin on her face. "Hey Lucca, if Nanase needs some extra cash for art school, I know Alto's plane needs some new nose art!"

Cathy popped Klan on the back of her head. "Shush!"

Canaria leaned toward the door. "It won't be permanent! The swelling should go away in a few days and the bruising should be gone in a few weeks."

"_Weeks?!_" Sheryl redoubled her sobbing.

Klan sighed. "This is getting nowhere."

They backed away from the door and stood closer to Alto.

"I guess you're right," said Ozma. "Probably just need to leave her alone for now."

Cathy nodded. "She'll get over it. It is a woman's place to overlook her man's physical shortcomings."

"You sure?"

"It's a daily thing for me, dear."

Ozma glared at her while the others indulged in a chuckle at their commander's expense.

"I'm going to go ahead and sedate him," Canaria said. "He'll need all the rest he can get. Klan, do you mind hanging around until Sheryl calms down?"

"No problem."

Ozma signaled it was time to go. "Let's get out of here, guys. Good work out there, Saotome. Get some rest, soldier." He saluted to Alto, as did Cathy, and the two left.

Lucca saluted as well. "Thanks for all your hard work, Sempai. I'll check in on you when I can."

Klan yawned. "I'm going to get some coffee. Be right back, Princess."

Alto growled at her as she left and Canaria smirked.

"Calm down, Lieutenant. Time for your nap." She injected a sedative into his intravenous drip and Alto was asleep almost instantly.

When she was absolutely sure the room was empty, Sheryl poked her head out of the bathroom. She checked to make sure nobody was looking, then tip toed to the bed. Alto was out cold. She wiped up his drool with her handkerchief and left the bundle of letters on his night stand. She leaned over, holding her long hair back with one hand, and gingerly planted a kiss on his forehead.

"Welcome home, soldier."

THE END

**Post-post-Op**

Alto was still sore, but compared to a few weeks ago he felt like a new man. Not only was the bruising gone, but Sheryl had treated him like a prince during his recovery. It was rare to see her acting so selflessly, but that was what made it special. He rotated his shoulder to try and get the kink out of it as he approached his Valkyrie's parking space.

"Morning Lieutenant!" Klan said from her lofty height nearby.

"Morning, Klan!"

"Feeling better, I hope?"

Alto nodded. "Loads. Working on my plane will make me feel even better."

Klan saluted. "Have fun. I'll be around if you need me."

Alto placed his hand on the fuselage and gave the Valkyrie a firm shove. It stood fast, but felt somehow a little soft, like it was giving him its own kind of hug. He moved around the plane, checking for wear, and then noticed something on the nose. Moving closer, he noticed it was a picture of his face, bloated, purple and deformed and possessing eight tentacles.

There were only two people who could have done that. And unless Michael had come back from the dead...

"Klaa-aaaaan!"

...

"Hey Ozma?" asked Cathy. The two were working on schedules in the office overlooking the hangar.

"Hmm?"

"I've seen a lot of things, but this is a first."

"What's that?"

"A human chasing a macronized Zentradi. And he's gaining."

Ozma looked up from his monitor to inspect the unusual scene.

"Think he knows what he'll do when he catches her?"

Cathy tapped her lips. "Knowing Saotome, probably not."

"Nope. Not at all."

THE END (for real)


End file.
